


Northern Star

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Holiday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-02
Updated: 2010-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman is not filled with the Christmas spirit, and that's all right with Superman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Northern Star

**Author's Note:**

> Based off Alex Ross's beautiful art of the JLA Christmas Party which you can see [here](http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y204/opiate1138/alex_rossxmas.gif)\--probably my favorite Ross artwork ever.

It was a dark and stormy night.

Actually, it wasn't, Batman was forced to admit.  It was a perfectly clear and starry night, with a huge silver moon that turned the snow-covered ground into a blanket of argent.

It merely felt like it _should_ be stormy.

From a distance, he glared at the Hall of Justice, its windows bright and glimmering in the night.  _Holiday party,_ he thought in annoyance.  _I cannot believe Clark had the gall to invite me to a holiday party._  And the nerve to seem disappointed when Batman had merely scoffed.  "I'm not a party person, Clark."

"You go to a lot of parties as Bruce," Clark had pointed out helpfully, earning himself an ice-cold glare.

"_I_ am not a party person."

Clark had left him alone after that, which was a relief.

Batman moved a little closer to the Hall, close enough to hear music spilling from it.  Inside would be bright and gaudy, decorations and lights as flashy and glitzy as some of the members' less-fortunate costume choices.  Gold and green and orange...and red and blue...glitter and flash and cheer.

Black was for funerals.  No one wore black to a Christmas party.

Batman's feet were cold.  This was ridiculous.  He was _not_ moping about in the snow, he was _not_ touching a hand to the window and looking in, he was _not_ practically stalking the damn JLA.

Except apparently he was.

Inside the Hall it was chaos, of course.  Laughter and motion everywhere, a crowd of happy people dancing and flirting and drinking together.  Captain Marvel's laugh boomed out over everything, Red Tornado and the Martian Manhunter clinked glasses in a toast, Wonder Woman was hanging ornaments on an impractically large tree, Plastic Man was craning his neck to look over Superman's shoulder as the Man of Steel set the star in place at the top of the tree, hovering.  No one noticed the lone figure outside, hand pressed foolishly to the glass, his feet cold, all of him cold.

Clark set the star in place and glanced out the window.  His eyes went wide as he saw Batman.  Then he raised his hand, beckoning.

There was a frozen moment in which Bruce met Clark's bright and beseeching eyes, saw the beginnings of a smile on that strong mouth.

Before it could become a full smile, he shook his head and turned away from the window.

**: : :**

Moonlight flooded across the hill;  Batman leaned against the lone oak tree, staring up at the moon, his arms crossed.  He didn't respond when a bright figure dropped out of the sky to land next to him. 

"Hi," said Superman after a moment.

"I thought I made it clear I wanted to be alone."

Superman shrugged.  "You made it clear you didn't feel like being at a party.  That's different from wanting to be alone."

Batman opened his mouth to clarify for the obtuse alien that he had indeed meant that he wanted to be alone.  He closed it again, the words unsaid.  He was too tired to belabor the point right now anyway.  He swung himself into the oak, settling on one of the branches;  Clark perched next to him and they looked over the park, up at the moon, in silence.

"It's funny," Clark said to the moon, "I was just thinking as I put that star on the tree.  How much I wished you were there."

Bruce snorted slightly.  "Nothing like some extra gloom and darkness at the party."

Clark shook his head.  "You know, everyone always calls you dark, but I never think of you that way."

"And what exactly do you think of me as?"  The words sounded sardonic rather than curious.  And certainly not hopeful.

There was a slight smile in Clark's voice.  "My star."

This time Batman laughed out loud, but Clark talked over the laughter.  "I mean it.  My northern star.  Everyone else either loves me too much or hates me too much.  You're the only person I can trust to keep me honest, to guide me true.  The only person who cares about me but is still willing to risk bruising my feelings."  His voice was warm, terribly warm.  "My northern star."

Batman felt bits of bark flaking away under his fingers.  "How can you be so sure I don't hate you too much?  I might just be very good at hiding my feelings."

Clark swung his legs like a little boy.  "The same way I'm sure you don't love me too much."

"You're so very sure?"  Bruce's voice was detached and remote, but Clark's eyes snapped from the moon to his face for a very long moment.

"It's cold," Clark said eventually.  "I'll be right back."  And he was, with a red plaid-patterned thermos.  Bruce opened it to sniff the scent of heated chocolate. 

"Very nice, but you forgot the--" a blur of motion, "--miniature marshmallows," he finished as Clark plunked a handful of small white cubes into the thermos.

Bruce took a cautious sip of the cocoa.  It was hot.  He cradled the thermos in his hands as the drink warmed him, then handed it to Clark, who slurped it loudly and sighed.

"I'm keeping you from your party," Bruce said.

Clark looked up and smiled at the moon.  "You know what?  I'd really rather be out here with you than at the party tonight."  He glanced over at Bruce, his eyes shy under a fringe of thick black lashes.  "Or any night, I suppose."

Bruce stared into the thermos.  "Typical Kryptonian, perfectly willing to sit out in the cold for hours.  You don't even feel it.  We mere mortals get cold sometimes, you know."

After a long pause, a rustle of red cloth fell around his shoulders.  There was an arm under the cloth as well, warm across his back, pulling him just a bit closer, until his side touched Clark's slightly.

Bruce took a long sip of the hot chocolate.  He felt warm, inside and out.  "I don't like parties," he said.

"I know."

"This isn't so bad though."

He felt Clark nod wordlessly.

Together they watched the moon rise higher in the sky, watched the stars sparkle silently.  "Northern star," Clark said quietly, looking up.  "It's beautiful."  His voice dropped to a whisper.  "I'd follow it forever if it would let me."

The stars swam in light above them.  Bruce cleared his throat.  There was a lot he wanted to say, but somehow the only word he could manage was "Good."

Fortunately, that seemed to be enough for Clark.


End file.
